If You're Gone
by toujourspret
Summary: 3x4--Quatre and Trowa had a fight. Will everything be alright again?


Untitiled  
---------  
by rinoastar  
------------  
  
  
"I can't stand being in one place all the time, "   
Trowa softly murmured into the solid cedar of the door. It  
smelled nice, but right now, his face wasn't pressed into it   
because it smelled good. It was pressed into it because a   
certain blonde young man was behind it, and held the only key   
to it. "Dammit, Quatre, come out here and talk to me! Or   
let me in, " he banged his head on the thick wood. His long  
bang covered his face and tickled his nose, but he continued  
to lean on it.  
"NO!" a muffled, but still easily recognized as   
angry voice yelled back. "You want to leave me, so go! What   
do you care that I'm in here? GO!"  
"Quatre, " Trowa admonished through the door. "I'm   
not used to this kind of lifestyle. I've never even owned a   
suit before, and I'm expected to wear one every time we have   
company? And what about animals? I'm used to having chores,  
too. It's unnerving to sit back and not do anything all day."  
"So you just want to come in and prove why you need to  
go. I don't care. Go. Go back to your animals and your   
people and your informalities and your child molesters and   
your life before you met me. I don't care. I just thought I'd  
make some difference in the lives of my lovers. I guess I  
was wrong, " Quatre's hurt voice echoed through the wood.   
Trowa sighed and ran a hand through his bang, slumping defeated  
against the door.  
"That's not it. You did make a difference. Besides,   
I'll still visit! It's not like I'm dropping off of the face of   
humanity, " Trowa tried the knob again, and it was still locked.  
"I'm sorry, Trowa, " Quatre's voice was thick. "But I  
just can't handle a casual relationship. If you came back to   
visit, our relationship would just become casual sex, and I don't  
want that. I'd rather we just cut it off, and save us both a   
lot of pain."  
"Quatre!" Trowa felt as if he was being strangled.   
He dejectedly fell against the door as tears began to roll down  
his face.  
--  
The shuttle ride out to colony L3-1258XZ, where the   
circus was temporarily calling home, was extremely long to the  
brunette boy with piercing green eyes that stared straight   
through people in his way. The stewardesses nervously avoided  
him, thinking him a murderer or criminal of some sort.   
Trowa silently sat watching the in-flight movie with   
a blank face. He was probably the only one actually watching   
it, but then again, he was probably the only one who hadn't been   
saying his goodbyes when the shuttle arrived. He simply had no  
one to say them to.  
His face burned and his heart leapt into his throat at  
the thought of when he had said his goodbyes. Tears pricked at  
the back of his eyes. Quatre had coolly said goodbye, and   
dismissed him easily. Trowa bitterly mused at the irony of it,  
Nanashi the emotionless was reacting worse to a breakup than   
Quatre the sympathetic. Or that's how Quatre wanted it to seem.  
In his mind's eye, Trowa could see Quatre now. The young  
man would be sobbing, curled into a fetal position beneath his   
desk. His soft, fluffy, blonde hair would be mussed, and the ends  
wet with tears. The long spikes of the delicate man's hair   
would be lying limply on his forehead. His aqua eyes clouded   
and darkened with pain.  
'I don't look so hot, myself, ' Trowa mused, grasping  
the tip of his long bang with his fingertips and gently tugging.  
His bright emerald eyes were no doubt flat and glassy, and the   
whites pink from all of the crying he'd done. His hair generally  
reflected his mood; even his hairstyle seemed depressed. The   
thickness that usually supported the strange hairstyle now weighed  
it down, and it hung in a mediocre replica of his normal hair.  
He settled back into his seat which, for a normal person,  
had very little leg room, and for him had none. Trowa shifted in  
his seat in discomfort before finally crossing his legs and laying  
back. He sighed and picked up a magazine he had gotten in the   
station and flipped it open. He read for a few minutes and fell   
asleep.  
--  
The office work was flooding in, along with sympathy calls  
from friends and family. Quatre felt as if he were just going to   
explode, between saying, "yes, it'll be there within two working   
days, " and "thank you for your concern." On top of it all, he   
faced a mountain of worksheets every day after lunch, most of which  
Abdul had accidentally put in the inbox when they belonged in the   
out. Therefore, it took three working days for everything to get   
around, and Quatre was bombarded with compliants.  
Quatre called Rasid into his office and the large man stood  
there humbly. "Master Quatre? May I help you? Is there anything   
you need?"  
"Yes. I NEED AN ASSISTANT!!!!" Quatre suddenly burst out.  
"Abdul has been mixing the paperwork again, and between all the   
sympathy calls I get, I get complaints and complaints about missed  
complaints! It's impossible to work with all this going on, and   
above all, I just want to go back to my room and HIDE!"  
Rasid visibly shrank back from the small boy's outburst.  
"Master Quatre . . . "  
"Oh, Rasid, I'm sorry. I'm just . . . overstressed.   
Nothing is working out for me right now. First . . . " Quatre   
sighed and shook his head. "I'm out of synch. I need a vacation  
to clear my head, most of all."  
"Shall Miss Iria and I plan one for you, or should we leave  
it up to you?" Rasid asked. "Perhaps a trip to Earth? An island  
in the blue water, or maybe your childhood home in Kuwait?"  
Quatre shuddered. "Not the island. Too much water. Why   
don't we set up a flight to Kuwait this weekend, and I'll stay   
for a week?"  
"Alright, Master Quatre. Are you sure you don't want to   
take more time off? We can handle things around here, you know, "  
Rasid smiled gently.  
"No, thank you, Rasid. I'd like to get back to work   
quickly. I don't like taking too much time off if I'm not doing  
anything, " the blonde young man replied, beaming up at the large  
man with dark hair. "Thank you, Rasid. You're like a father to me,  
and it really means a lot to me."  
Rasid choked up. "Th-thank you, Master Quatre. That means  
a lot to me, too."  
--  
Katherine and Ringmaster looked on in fear as Trowa tumbled  
down from the highwire, the fourth time the day. Katherine reached  
out for Trowa as he walked by, but he drew away. She hugged herself   
and watched his retreating form disappear into his trailer.  
"What's wrong with him?" Ringmaster asked. "If he doesn't  
clean up, I'm going to be forced to kick him."  
"Oh, don't!" Katherine cried. "He's upset. He just broke   
up with someone, and he's still upset."  
"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do, " Ringmaster shook his   
head.   
Back in his trailer, Trowa was breathing heavily and trying  
not to hyperventilate. He missed Quatre so much he could barely   
stand it. He missed the light laughter and the applause at his   
every trick. He missed the sight of the adorable little blonde   
smiling, and knowing he was the one that had caused it.  
He was sore all over from falling into the safety net. At   
first, he had been confident that he could concentrate. He had   
cockily refused the safety net, and they had all let him try, knowing  
and trusting his abilities. And he had fallen. His pride was more   
injured than his body, and he had gotten back up onto the wire. He   
walked it twice over, backwards, just to prove that he could still   
do it.  
Then, he got up and tried to do it again, and promptly fell  
again. From then on, no matter how much he did to prove that he   
could do it, they left the net up. Katherine was afraid he'd break  
something.  
Something was already broken, though. And this, Hiiro   
couldn't set back as easily as a leg. Trowa sighed and punched his  
pillows. The seam tore and the feathers flew out with a satisfying  
gust of wind. Suddenly, all of his depression pent up was released  
and he fell to his de-fluffed pillow and sobbed.  
All around him, the soft, gentle feathers lay, reminding him  
of Quatre's hair.  
Katherine found him there, later, in the midst of his ruined  
pillow, with tears still fresh on his face. She gently scooped up   
the feathers and pillow and took them to her trailer to mend.  
--  
Quatre pulled back the silk sheets to his and Trowa's-no,   
his bed. He mentally kicked himself. "Baka. You told him to go,  
didn't you? What made you think he wouldn't?" he muttered to   
himself, rubbing salt in his own wounds but not really caring.  
"All he wanted was to go home. You were being selfish   
to keep him here, Winner, " he told himself. "Spoiled.   
Selfish. That's all you can be, isn't it, Quatre? You've never  
had anyone tell you 'no' before, and you didn't like it when he  
did. Selfish and spoiled."  
He took a sip of his water and turned on the radio. A   
few old songs from the Twentieth/Twenty-first Century were   
playing, and it was request hour. Quatre sighed and turned out   
the lamp just as an anonymous request came in. It was from a   
girl to two of her friends that needed to talk.   
As the song came on, Quatre's mind began to wander.   
The song was a wonderful song entitled "If You're Gone, " by   
Matchbox 20. Quatre recognized it as a somewhat common requested  
song on this particular radio station. As he listened to the   
music, he cursed himself all kinds of fool and listened to the   
sad song.  
--  
Trowa awoke in time to hear a favorite of Quatre's shows   
on the radio. It played all sorts of old songs that ranged from   
sweet and sappy to wild and raunchy. It all depended on the   
mood of the disc jockey.  
He heard the tail end of a dedication and listened for   
the next song. It was a farmiliar song, one of Quatre's   
favorites. The little blonde always turned the radio up and   
shushed his lover as they listened to it.   
Trowa felt a little strange thinking that Quatre was   
listening to the exact same song at the exact same time in   
different houses and sleeping in different beds. He felt a   
sinking ache in the pit of his stomach and he rolled onto his  
stomach. He sighed and listened to the sad words of the song.  
"If you're gone, Baby, it's time to come home, " the   
singer sang. Trowa sighed and lay his face down onto his   
pillow. Katherine must have fixed it for him and replaced it   
while he slept. He stroked the soft cloth and remembered the   
feel of the feathers inside. They had felt just like Quatre's   
hair.  
--  
Katherine sighed with relief as she pressed the 'off'   
switch on her satelite phone. She smiled a bit to herself   
when she heard Trowa's radio come on just in time to catch her  
dedication. 'I wonder if he'll know it was me, ' she mused,   
before folding the lip of an envelope over and sealed it.   
It was addressed to Rasid, with a smaller envelope inside for   
Quatre. Written simply on it were the words, "If you want to,  
you'll know what to do with this."  
She licked a stamp and put it into the mail.  
--  
Katherine mentally cursed herself as she watched Trowa  
run through his routine again. There was a show tonight, and   
although he could stay on the wire, Trowa's performance was   
flat and lifeless. It had been four days since she had sent  
the tickets and not a word had arrived yet. It was becoming  
obvious even to optimistic Katherine that Quatre was not coming.  
She huffed in disappointment and flopped down into the  
stands. She was angry with Quatre for not coming, angry with   
Trowa for breaking up with Quatre and being miserable, and angry   
with herself for being so stupid. Katherine was beginning to   
feel like the world's biggest fool.  
Ringmaster came over to stand by her and they watched   
Trowa practice. "He's flat, " Ringmaster said quietly. "I'm   
really sorry, Katherine. I just don't understand! How could   
he be so great one minute and awful the next? How could he   
put three hundred percent into it and come back with only fifty?"  
"I told you. He broke up with his lover, " she replied  
softly. "They were really close. Trowa loved him a lot."  
"Him?!" Ringmaster gasped. "You never said anything   
about that!"  
"Yes, him. You notice I always said 'lover', not   
'girlfriend'. He had a male lover, " she retorted.  
"We can't have a queer clown! There's kids in the   
audience!" Ringmaster was angry. "How long have you known?"  
"A long time. Longer than Trowa himself knew."  
Ringmaster made a sound of annoyment and slapped his  
forehead. "Katherine, things like this can kill a circus!"  
"I know, Ringmaster, but honestly, it doesn't matter.   
Trowa and his lover only had eyes for each other, and Trowa's   
too hurt right now to even consider taking another lover."  
"You promise?"   
Katherine made a little sound of disbelief. "I can't  
promise anything about Trowa, but I'm fairly certain."  
Ringmaster relaxed a little. "I hope you're right.  
By the way, is there any way that he and mystery man can get   
back together? These Friday night performances are always our   
most watched. It won't do to have a depressed clown in our   
show."  
"I tried everything. I even sent tickets and an address   
of our current show to him, but he hasn't shown up all week, "  
Katherine shok her head.  
"Oh. Must've been a real mess if they won't even come   
near each other, " Ringmaster shook his head. "Pass along my  
sympathy."  
--  
Fifteen minutes before showtime, Katherine was busily   
fixing the feathers in her hair. She fussed with a pink frill  
here and there, and straightened her fishnet stockings. As she  
added a last coat of lipstick, she became aware of an extra   
presence. She shivered and frowned into her tiny mirror before   
sneakily turning it behind her. There was a dark shadow in the  
doorway, and she let out a little hiss.  
"Who's there?" she demanded, turning to it with fire   
alight in her eyes.  
"Me, " a sweet, familiar voice replied. The person   
stepped into the bright circus lights of the room and smiled.  
The light reflected off of his hair, making it seem golden.  
"Quatre, " Katherine murmured in surprise. "I thought  
you wouldn't come."  
"I almost didn't, " the blonde man hung his head and   
sighed. "But, believe it or not, it was you that kept me from   
staying away. That song you requested . . . " his bright blue  
eyes watched her intently. "It fit so perfectly."  
"I requested?" Katherine's innocent ploy was shot down  
by a small smile. "Oh, alright. I did. How did you know?"  
"Mm, I heard the voice and recognized the song. It   
took me a minute to get it, but it hit me when I got the tickets, "  
the young man replied. "I know what you want me to do, and I know  
what I should do, and I know what I want to do, but I don't know   
what I can do, " he stopped. Then he shook his head, "I   
probably don't make much sense."  
"You do. You always do, " Katherine smiled sadly. "You  
hurt him and he hurt you, and you don't know if he wants to be  
together anymore. Am I right?"  
"Somewhat. I . . . was being selfish. I didn't want   
him to come home. I wanted him to stay with me, " he blushed  
and stared away from her. She walked over to him and gently   
placed a hand on his shoulder.   
"I know how it is. You wanted him to stay, and he was  
uncomfortable. You were afraid to lose him, " Katherine   
ruffled his hair. "But they say that if you love something, it's   
best to let it go. If it comes back, it's yours forever."  
Quatre chuckled bitterly. "Trowa didn't come back to me.  
I chased him." He turned away from her and headed to the door.  
"I'm supposed to be in Kuwait right now. Rasid will have a   
conniption when he finds out I'm not there. I'd better get   
going."  
"Don't lose your nerve now, Quatre! You were a gundam   
pilot, for goodness sake! You can handle walking up to someone  
and apologizing!" Katherine grabbed his shoulder.  
Quatre spun back, his eyes sad. "I don't know if I can  
handle rejection, Kate."  
"Just do it. You'll never know if he would have rejected  
you or not if you never ask!" Katherine vehemently stated, hands   
on her hips.  
"And I'll never be hurt!" Quatre retorted.  
"Doesn't it hurt not kowing?" Katherine asked softly.   
"Doesn't it hurt thinking that he could be with someone else and   
still in love with you?" Quatre's eyes filled with tears. "Oh,  
Quatre, I didn't mean to upset you, but think for once! Wouldn't  
you rather know, and have it all open? Doesn't it hurt bottled   
up inside?"  
Quatre nodded mutely. "Can you show me to a seat? I want  
to see the show, " he asked, "and think a bit." Katherine nodded  
and brought him out to the seats.  
Since it was still early, the seats had just begun to fill  
up. Ringmaster and the horseback riders were guiding people to   
their seats, so it wasn't weird that the knife-thrower was leading   
a young man to a bench. Katherine guided Quatre to the box seats,  
so close to the actual show that he could reach out and touch the   
performers. A couple and their guide sputtered in indignation   
because they were headed to the same seats. Katherine made a face  
and told Quatre not to let them have his seat. He smiled up at   
her and she winked. Then she went back to finish getting ready.  
--  
The area behind the curtain was dark and dusty. It   
smelled awful, like animals, but Trowa didn't seem to mind. He   
was waiting for Katherine to give him the cue to go out for his   
wire act. He was a bit jittery, but ran over his routine   
in his head.   
Finally, she waved to the crowd, Trowa's cue, and walked  
off stage. He headed out and straight up the ladder. He was   
sure that if he looked out at the audience, he'd see Quatre   
everywhere and fluke his act. Then Ringmaster would fire him and  
he would be poor and homeless.   
As Trowa walked out to perform, Ringmaster cornered   
Katherine. "Babette already told me about earlier. So, who was  
the kid? Your new beau?" he teased.  
Katherine shook her head. "No. Trowa's. He came!" she  
grinned at him and his eyes widened.   
"Are you serious?" he asked as he looked out at the crowd.  
The blonde boy was sitting in the box with the dreamiest look on  
his face. Ringmaster turned to Katherine and smirked. "He's too  
cute for Trowa!"  
Katherine laughed and shook her head. "They're really   
sweet on each other. They fit perfectly."  
"Anything I can do to help?" Ringmaster asked.  
Katherine grinned, an evil light shining in her eye.   
"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. You can . . . "  
--  
Trowa worked through his routine with his eyes closed.   
Every daring leap made Quatre's heart skip a beat and each flip  
made him nearly faint. He gasped along with everyone else in the   
crowd, mostly from fear of his beloved being injured.  
The brunette boy finally finished the act, wrapping up  
with the usual triple halfspin. Then he allowed himself to   
look into the crowd, since his act was over. As his eyes scanned   
over the large closing day crowd, they rested on a familiar blonde.  
Said blonde realized that the clown's eyes were on him, and   
blushed.  
"Talk to me after the show, " Quatre mouthed to the tall   
boy. Trowa nodded shyly and went on backstage. Ringmaster came   
up and announced that there was a special show coming up soon, and  
they would need audience perticipation. He guestured to Quatre,   
sitting in the box, and the crowd cheered loudly. People who had  
come to the other shows were cheering the loudest of all, knowing   
that this was not part of the regular show.  
Quatre hesitantly left the stands and stood by Ringmaster.  
"You're really big. Just as big as Rasid, " the blonde whispered  
up in awe.  
Ringmaster chuckled. "You're really small. About the size  
Trowa was when he was ten, " he replied. Quatre grinned up at him  
and Ringmaster took his arm. "Come with me. We've got something  
to do."  
The two left the bright room and went behind the curtain to  
prepare. As they passed, Katherine and Trowa carried out a large,   
covered cart. Katherine flipped the cover away with a flourish,   
revealing two rows of pies. "You said he's allergic to cinnamon?  
Well, these are French Silk, Lemon Icebox, and Custard Merengue.   
You think he'll like them?" she asked, amused.  
"What are you planning?" he queried suspiciously. She  
shrugged in response and handed him a card. "What is this?"  
"It's questions about the circus. We're going to figure  
out how much you've told him and how well he listened. Then, if  
he gets one wrong, well . . . you know, " she guestured to the  
pies.  
"You are NOT going to pie Quatre!" he replied vehemently.  
"I won't let you!"  
"Then we'll pie you, too!" Ringmaster answered Trowa,   
before turning to the curtain and guiding Quatre in. The poor  
boy was decked out in a clown suit similar to Trowa's. It had   
no shirt, and Quatre was shivering in the cool evening air.   
"It's a bit more chilly here than I'm used to, " the   
blonde blushed, the pink showing on his chest. He shivered and   
wrapped his semimuscular arms around himself, covering nipples   
hardened by cold. Trowa's eyebrow raised quizzicly at this, and   
the blonde turned even more red.  
The tall boy bit back a laugh and nervously led the other  
boy out to the stage. Katherine stood by, holding a pie. Quatre  
warily hid behind Trowa. "What's that for?" he asked.  
"They're doing a trivia promotion. They decided to pick  
on you. I hope you paid attention to what I told you about the  
circus, " Trowa winked.  
Quatre paled then blushed as he looked out at the crowd.  
"They're all going to watch me get pied?"  
"If you get the questions wrong."  
Quatre frowned and stood by Katherine. "Okay, dear.   
I hope you know a lot about our circus! First question: How   
many elephants did the circus use in tonight's show?"  
"Three, " Quatre answered simply. "But Bobo was sick.   
There's normally four, " he added.  
"Very good!" Katherine smiled and the audience   
appluaded. "Next question: How many horseriders do we have?"  
"Twelve. Trixi has the flu, Judi has pnumonia, Lili  
lost her slippers, and Nami broke her arm. So there's eight  
in the show, " Quatre prided himself in knowing their   
individual ailments.  
"Excellent! Two left. Next question: How are the clown  
and I related?" Katherine smiled.  
"They're the knife act!" someone in the crowd yelled.  
The rest of the crowd shushed them and Quatre smiled.  
"You're his older sister!" he answered. Katherine   
nodded and the crowd ecstatically cheered.   
"Last question: What color is the lead harem dancer's   
outfit? The stakes aren't just pieing this time; if you're right,   
you get off scott free. If you're wrong, you have to kiss the  
clown. Plus, you still get pied. Think carefully!"  
Quatre thought for a moment. He knew that the outfit  
his father's, technically his own now, harem leader wore was   
blue, and his best friend's wore blue, as well. "Blue, " he   
responded.  
Katherine shook her head. "Nope. Our girl is hired,   
and paid, so she wears pink. It's only the concubines that wear  
blue, " she grinned. "A good, middle eastern boy like yourself  
should know that! Now . . . pucker up!"  
Quatre's eyes rounded and he tried to say something but  
couldn't. Finally, Trowa walked up to him and delicately   
wrapped an arm around his waist. He blushed and turned his face   
away from the taller boy. Trowa traced his jaw with two fingers  
and gently lifted his face. He brushed his thumb across Quatre's   
full lower lip and leaned in for the kiss.  
Their lips met softly and slid over one another like silk.  
They reveled in the moment before Trowa began to gently nibble  
Quatre's lip. The blonde moaned quietly into his love's mouth   
and they kissed so deeply that even Katherine was certain she saw   
tongue. The audience was loud, half protesting the kiss, half   
cheering the couple on.  
Eventually, they broke apart, breathing heavily and   
blushing. Quatre smoothed his mussed hair and Trowa chuckled.  
Katherine playfully raised an eyebrow at them and Quatre tried to  
hide in Trowa's shoulder. The brunette sweetly kissed Quatre   
just above his ear. The audience was applauding enthusiastically   
and Ringmaster let the show out.  
--  
Trowa and Quatre managed to sneak away from all of the   
circus employees and crowd members who had something to say about  
their relationship. They disappeared into Trowa's trailer and   
Quatre sat on Trowa's bed. He nervously looked down at his hands.  
Trowa made tea for them and sat down next to him.  
"So, " the tall young man said softly. "Why did you come  
out here?"  
Quatre shyly looked up at him. "I missed you. I . . . "  
he cut off, blushing. "I didn't know what to do without you.   
And Katherine sent me tickets . . . "  
Trowa tenderly stroked the small boy's cheek. "I'm going  
to have to thank her. I missed you, too."  
"Trowa, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you angry! I   
didn't mean to make you leave!" Quatre collapsed into sobs on  
Trowa's chest.  
"It's alright. You were upset. I wasn't angry; I wanted   
to give you some time to think for a little while, " Trowa   
replied.  
"But I was being selfish. I had no right to make you  
stay if you were uncomfortable. You should be able to do whatever  
you want."  
"I *want* to be with you, " Trowa smiled into Quatre's   
shoulder. "It was a little weird after the life I've lived to just  
sit back and not do anything, but I could get used to it, " he   
gently bit his ear.  
"You shouldn't have to get used to anything that makes you  
unhappy. I want you to be happy, and seeing you unhappy makes me   
unhappy, " Quatre's muffled voice came from within the folds of  
Trowa's shirt.  
"Well, you can't see anything suffocating in my shirt like   
that, " Trowa chuckled. "Why don't you come out here?"  
Quatre was blushing but smiling as he pulled back from   
Trowa's chest. "Will you come and visit me often?" he asked, his  
eyes wide and shy.  
Trowa softly pressed his lips to Quatre's. "I'll come   
whenever you call me."  
"How long will you stay?"   
"As long as I can."  
"When do you get days off?"  
"When I want them, " Trowa kissed him again.  
"When will you want them?" Quatre asked breathlessly.  
"Every day." 


End file.
